Love Endures
by ToBeClaire
Summary: Percival is about to lose his best friend and constant companion, and he cannot stand the pain. He fears he will never recover from the grief, but Gwaine turns up with an unexpected gift. Is Percival ready to accept it and allow love into his heart again? This tale is five chapters long.
1. Luned

_A/N—A few years ago, my beloved dog passed away. It was one of the most painful experiences of my life, and since then, I have wanted to write about the enduring bond between people and their dogs. I was not ready to face the pain until now, but what better way to express my feelings than to write about a knight of Camelot experiencing the same love, loss, and eventual healing?_

 _Also, so there is no (or less!) confusion, this story takes place about ten years after Camlann, and in my head canon, Percival is now twenty-nine years old. Arthur, Lancelot, and Elyan have passed, but Gwaine lives!_

 _Further, I really struggled with rating this story. Most of it is very tame, with a little bit of language and a few vague references to sex. However, there is one scene with sexual intimacy that I think is pretty mild and does not quite hit an "M" rating, but I don't want anyone to feel they have been duped into reading a sex scene that they don't want to. Thus, after much consideration, I have rated this story a "T+", but I will give an additional brief warning before the chapter with the sex scene. The last thing I want to do is make people uncomfortable. I want people to enjoy what they read._

 _Thank you for stopping by._

 **Love Endures**

 **Chapter One: Luned**

Luned was dying, and this was the worst day of Sir Percival's life.

The worst day should have been when Percival's parents perished at the hands of King Cenred, but that happened long ago when Percival had been little more than a boy, and he had blocked out the pain associated with that loss. But seeing Luned, his precious dog of eleven years, draped across his lap in bed as she took shallow, raspy breaths, was destroying him.

"She's just a dog. Why is she so special to you?" Percival had heard that question many times over the years.

He would shrug and chuckle, knowing they could never understand. Friendships had come and gone, women had come and gone, even King Arthur had come and gone. Luned, however, remained by Percival's side through it all. Every morning, the massive animal greeted Percival with furious tail wags and affectionate licks. It was as if she said: "Good morning! I love you! You're the best person in all of Camelot!"

Luned was what people referred to as a common dog, meaning she was a mix of breeds. She was large, the height of a small pony, with a tawny, short coat, and bright yellow eyes. Luned was missing her left ear, and all that remained of her tail was a mere stump. She must have been engaged in quite the altercation before she found her way to Percival.

Luned whined in distress as she adjusted her position in Percival's lap, and he wondered if his heart might bleed. "Girl, it's all right. I'm here. Just relax."

Percival had given up on trying to keep Luned off his bed in the castle years ago. It was her favorite place, especially when Percival was in it, even though she took up more than half the space. Now, in her final hours or moments, Percival stroked her belly as the sun poured in through the tall window.

Even with mellow sunshine warming her fur and the softness of the bed, Luned was suffering. Percival was being selfish, keeping her alive when the simple act of breathing pained her, but he simply could not bring himself to hasten her passing by his own hand. He promised himself if she grew worse, he would ask for help to bring about her end.

Percival heaved a deep sigh. "My Luned. You do recall how we met?"

Her tail thumped in slow approval.

Gently, he kissed the top of her head. "I remember, too."

How could one forget such a startling introduction?

XXXX

Eleven years ago, at age eighteen, Percival was a new knight and had been stationed at the northernmost garrison in Camelot, along with his fellow knights, Gwaine, Leon, Lancelot, and Elyan. It had been a mild autumn evening, and the men enjoyed a supper of roast duck and ale outside before a cheerful pit fire. As Percival took a bite of his drumstick, a massive dog blasted out of the forest and tore toward him. The beast's jowls flapped as it flew forward, displaying an impressive set of deadly teeth. Percival sat there, dumbstruck, as the other men drew their swords.

The beast advanced, deftly sidestepping the armed knights. The dog ran straight to Percival, and he braced himself for an attack. He imagined the animal's wicked teeth sinking into his neck, and his friends would not be able to stop the canine without accidentally cleaving Percival in two.

The dog came to an abrupt halt. Gently, the animal plucked the roast drumstick from Percival's hand and gobbled it in three bites, bones and all. After letting out a long, loud belch, the dog lowered itself to the ground and rolled over, exposing her belly, begging for it to be rubbed. She was missing an ear and most of her tail, jumping with fleas, marred with scratches, and her ribs jutted out, yet all she wanted was a little attention and some food.

"Gods, my heart almost stopped." Breathing a sigh of relief, Gwaine sheathed his weapon and approached as Percival scratched the dog's belly. "Poor thing's quite ugly."

"What?" Percival frowned, now stroking the dog's side. "No, she's not. She's been hurt is all."

"Sounds like someone is in love." Elyan chuckled, but Percival ignored him.

"I'll feed her a proper meal and clean her wounds," said Percival. "Then she'll be on her way."

He did not mean those words as he spoke them, and Luned—the name Percival chose for the dog the following day—never left his side. When Percival and his friends returned to Camelot's castle a fortnight later, she had become part of their pack, and the knights begged King Arthur to allow her to stay.

"Sire, she's so useful!" Gwaine insisted, gesturing to Luned, who sat calmly at his feet. "We trained her to bark on command, and she sounds very fierce. She also retrieves small game for us during hunts. Luned would make a fine guard dog and hunting dog."

That was almost laughable. Luned did like barking for treats, and she sounded terrifying, but she did not possess an aggressive bone in her body. She never bit, nor growled, and she cowered when scolded, despite her imposing size. As for fetching killed game, yes, she might retrieve it, but convincing her to give it up was another matter. Regardless, she was the finest companion the men could ask for, and Percival stood in the Great Hall, breath held, awaiting an answer.

The king shrugged. "You can keep her, though we'll not have her as a guest at formal suppers."

Eventually, Luned was a guest at formal suppers, as visitors from far and wide wanted to spend time with the "gentle giant, a friend to Camelot's tallest knight, Sir Percival."

Time marched forward, and Luned had been there for it all, including Percival's close brush with marriage several years ago.

At the ripe age of twenty-five, Percival rescued a beautiful young member of the strolling players from drowning after she slipped off a rock and had fallen into the deep part of the lake. The beauty wanted to show her appreciation for the rescue, so she invited Percival to her tent in the woods, and he spent a magical evening wrapped up in her sweet body. Not the kind of man to bed a woman and walk away, he proposed marriage the very next morning.

Her long, dark hair still tousled from their tryst, the woman winced. "I had a lovely time, but I'm only passing through. And I have a husband already. Sorry."

That stunned Percival, and he swore off women. He decided his life as a knight with his wonderful dog would be enough. And it was, for years.

XXXX

Luned's low whine drew Percival back to the present. Her heart raced, and her breath came in short, choppy pants. If he had the bollocks, he could snap her neck in one clean move, and she would feel nothing, but he simply could not bring himself to do it.

In that instant, he remembered that Gaius, the elderly Court Physician, possessed draughts that would hasten a man's crossing into death if he suffered and there was no way to save him. Percival supposed such concoctions would work on dogs, too, but he could not leave Luned alone to fetch Gaius.

A moment later, a soft knock came at the door. Gwaine entered the room, a slight frown curving his lips. "How is she doing?"

"Not well. It's her time." Percival fought tears. "She's in pain. Would you stay with her while I fetch Gaius? I must ask him if he'll give her a draught to…to put her to sleep."

"Of course." Gwaine eased onto the bed and carefully positioned Luned's large head on his lap. She seemed to smile up at him. Gwaine was her second-favorite person in the known lands.

Percival bolted out the door, up several flights of stairs, and he dashed into the infirmary. Gaius sat hunched before a cauldron, absently stirring, and he started when Percival flew into the room.

"It's Luned." Percival struggled to catch his breath. "She's dying, suffering, and I need your help. I need..." Gods, he could not speak the words.

Gaius abandoned his stool, hobbled over, and rested a hand on Percival's shoulder. "I understand. Give me a few moments to mix the proper herbs, and I shall be right along."

"Thank you," Percival called over his shoulder, as he raced back to his chamber. It was a busy time of day in the castle, and the corridors swarmed with people, but he deftly sidestepped them all, ignoring greetings. He had to get back to Luned right away.

Head down, he barreled into the room. "I ran as fast as I could..." His words trailed off when he lifted his face and stared at the bed. Luned lay still, and her chest no longer rose and fell with breaths. She was dead, but Gwaine still stroked her fur.

"I am sorry, Percival. She passed a few moments after you left. I think she wanted to spare you the pain of seeing her die."

"No," whispered Percival, taking a knee beside his bed and resting his head on Luned's body. "I was supposed to be here for her."

"You were there for her from the moment you met. She could not have asked for a finer master. You were lucky to have found one another."

Gwaine slipped out of bed and helped Percival to his feet. Percival could do nothing more than stare at the lifeless body of his dearest friend. That was when the dam of grief broke, and Percival sobbed, louder than a widow who had just learned of her husband's passing. All the sorrow he'd repressed over the years boiled to the surface. He had lost so many: his family, fellow knights that he had considered family, friends, and even King Arthur, the man who had elevated Percival to knighthood and changed Percival's life forever. Percival should have been embarrassed by his body-wracking sobs, but he could not bring himself to care. Everything hurt too damn much.

Gwaine pulled Percival into a tight, protective embrace. "I am so sorry. She wasn't just a dog; she was your friend. Our friend."

Grateful that Gwaine understood, Percival did nothing more than nod.

Gaius appeared in the doorway, his brow creased with concern. "My sincere condolences, Percival. Tell me when you are ready, and I shall have her prepared for a funeral tonight."

The image of Luned's body upon the funeral pyre made fresh tears flow down Percival's cheeks. He wondered if they would ever stop.

XXXX

On that breezy autumn evening, right before dusk, more than a hundred people gathered in the castle courtyard for Luned's funeral. It shocked Percival to see so many assembled, and even his sovereign, Queen Guinevere, attended.

In the row directly in front of the pyre stood Leon and Gaius. Percival imagined Merlin would have been there, too, but his whereabouts remained unknown for many years, and King Arthur, Lancelot, and Elyan were there in spirit.

Gwaine guided Percival to his spot, the one reserved for the man closest to the deceased, for it was Percival's responsibility to light the pyre.

Gwaine stood in front of the crowd and cleared his throat. He would be the one to give the eulogy. Percival did not trust his voice.

"Luned was an important part of our lives for so long. She stood beside us during hunts and battles, entertained us on rainy days, and most of all, she offered love and loyalty." Gwaine glanced over his shoulder at her still form. "We trained her to bark on command, and did she ever sound fierce, but she would rather lick you half to death than bite. Luned did not have a mean bone in that large body of hers."

Percival nodded in agreement.

"Luned was afraid of flies, had to be held during thunderstorms, and she did not like snakes. She was fascinated by hares, and she chased them, but never caught one. Not that she would have hurt the animal; that was not in her nature.

"Luned loved roast duck, fetching sticks, and she loved every person she met, especially Percival. That love is a rare and precious thing, and it does not matter if it comes from a man or a beast. We will miss you, dear Luned." Gwaine turned and patted her side. "We will never forget you."

Gwaine took his place beside Percival and rested a hand on Percival's back as the priestess stepped forward to offer prayers. Percival blocked out the words as he glanced around. No one rolled their eyes. Not a single person appeared bored or seemed to question why a dog was receiving a full funeral. The ceremony was solemn and full of true grief, and Percival loved the people of Camelot for their compassion and for supporting him in his time of need.

Before Percival knew it, the priestess handed over the torch to light the pyre upon which Luned lay. Gods, the notion of touching the flame to the wood made Percival's stomach burn and his heart ache, but he had to let her go. He paused, took a deep breath, then lit the pyre.

Percival turned away and instead gazed at the sunset. He could not bear to face the flames.


	2. Sunshine

**Chapter Two: Sunshine**

Weeks passed, and Percival slogged through each day, weighed down by grief. At least once each day, he'd imagine he saw the flick of Luned's stumpy tail in the distance, and sometimes, he thought he heard the gentle thump of her prancing around his chamber, but, obviously, it was never her. As to not alarm his friends, he ate supper in the Great Hall with them and made occasional trips to the tavern, but nothing lifted his spirits.

 _This is what a broken heart feels like_ , he mused, and he began to wonder if perhaps something was really wrong with him, as the pain of loss remained so acute and in the forefront of his every thought.

Two months went by, and for the first time in a long while, Luned was not the first thing that popped into Percival's mind when he woke. Guilt bit at his insides, and he apologized to her silently. _I will never forget you, I promise._

That evening, while patrolling the Darkling Woods, Percival grew so distracted by his grief that he narrowly missed being shot in the chest by a bandit's arrow when out on patrol. If he had been paying attention, that close call would not have occurred. Right then, he decided he had to try harder to move on. Luned would have been devastated if he'd been injured, and this was not what she would have wanted, Percival moping and miserable.

Digging one's way out of a mountain of grief was not easy he learned, but it happened, bit by bit. Autumn passed, then Yule arrived, followed by an early spring. Luned had been gone for six months. It was hard to believe.

The equinox came, and the Alban Eiler celebration—featuring feasting and dancing around bonfires—took place. Percival and Gwaine had acted as guards that evening, and the festivities did not conclude until very late at night. It had been a long and tiring day, and by the time the last reveler had gone home, Percival was ready to strip off his chainmail and go to bed.

However, before Percival had the chance to lumber to his chamber in the castle, Gwaine approached, holding a wriggling white puppy dotted with black splotches the size of a man's palm, and one such spot covered her right eye. The animal looked like a mixture of hound and mastiff, with paws far too large for its body. It was sure to grow into a sizable dog, liked Luned.

His initial curiosity turned to distress, and Percival shrank back as if Gwaine carried a serpent. Percival did not want to so much as touch another dog. "What is that?" he asked.

"A puppy, obviously. I heard her whining in the woods, hiding in tall grass. There was blood nearby, so I assume her mother and the other puppies did not make it."

"That's unfortunate." Percival's spine stiffened, and his heart hardened. "I am sure the Master of the Game will take good care of her."

"I doubt he has time," said Gwaine, jiggling the weighty pup in his arms. "He's contending with two new litters of puppies right now. Why don't you take her?"

"You want _me_ to take her?" Percival spat through clenched teeth. "How could you ask that of me after what I went through?"

Gwaine narrowed his eyes. "Sorry, I didn't realize you died, too."

"How dare you!" It took every bit of Percival's restraint to not punch Gwaine in the face. How could Gwaine not understand that Percival's heart remained as hollow as a dead tree?

"I am sorry." Gwaine's eyes softened, and he bowed his head. "That was uncalled for. I'll take her until I find her a suitable home."

Gwaine walked away, but the puppy stared at Percival, whining, and pawing in Percival's direction.

XXXX

Well past the middle of the night, Percival woke to the sound of a puppy whimpering in the corridor, followed by Gwaine's voice muttering something Percival could not understand from behind the closed door. The whining and anxious muttering faded, and Percival squeezed his eyes shut, trying to fall back asleep, but it was no use. He could not allow his friend and an innocent puppy to struggle.

After heaving groan, Percival rose and dressed by candlelight. He stepped into the corridor as Gwaine walked closer, his face white, clutching the puppy.

"She's sick!" Gwaine announced. "I don't know what to do."

"What, exactly, is wrong?"

"I don't know. She started whining a little while ago and kicking her legs. Her midsection seems tender. It's probably a fatal growth or something..."

Percival had never seen Gwaine so undone, but Percival had an idea about what might be wrong. "Give her here."

Gently, Percival took the dog into his arms and rubbed her belly in slow, firm circles. She passed wind loud enough to wake the dead, then again. She gazed up at Percival, licked his chin, then promptly fell asleep in his arms.

Gwaine coughed and waved his hand in front of his face, trying to dispel the noxious odor of the young animal's flatulence. "That was it? Trapped wind?"

"That happens with puppies. She's eating different foods than when she was with her mother, and it probably upset her belly. She'll be fine."

"Thank you." Gwaine's eyes drooped with fatigue as he reached for the pup, and Percival frowned. His friend obviously needed some sleep.

"I'll mind her until morning. Go on and get some rest."

Gwaine clasped his hands together in front of his chest. "You are the finest friend in the realm."

He stumbled back to his chamber.

Meanwhile, Percival brought the dog into his room. He poured water from his ewer into a bowl and placed it on the ground. Then he set up a fluffy nest of blankets on the floor. He placed the animal on top of the soft surface, then crawled into his bed. The dog gave Percival that classic puppy-eyed stare.

"No, you cannot come onto my bed. You have a nice bed right there."

Eventually, she stopped staring, and they both fell asleep.

Before sunup, the pup began whining again, and Percival rolled out of bed, sat on the floor, and rubbed the dog's belly, as he had earlier. Once again, the dog broke wind, loudly, and she seemed to smile with relief.

"You are stinky."

The dog yipped with delight.

"And silly."

She danced on the blankets.

"Quite the ray of sunshine you are."

She snuggled up against him and licked his face.

"That would be a good name for you, Sunshine."

She did a little twirl, then tried to clamber up onto Percival's bed, but she was not quite tall enough.

"No." Percival pointed to her blanket nest as he settled back on his mattress. "Your bed is there. You cannot come up here."

She plopped down onto her rump and cocked her head to the side. "Why not?" her expression begged.

"I had a dog once," said Percival, wondering why he was offering this animal an explanation. "She was wonderful, and that means if I kept you, I'd always compare you to her, and that would not be fair. Gwaine will find you a home with children to play with, and you'll be happy there."

Her tail wagged. "No, I'd be happy with you!" she seemed to say.

"Absolutely not. I will not let you worm your way into my heart. I did that once already, and never again. Besides, you're perfectly cute, and families will line up to take you home."

Undeterred, she tried to scramble up onto his bed again. It was no use. Percival would get no sleep if he did not allow her onto the bed, just for a little while.

He picked her up and placed her at his feet. Slowly, she crept up his side and settled herself in the crook of his arm. They both slept.

XXXX

Percival and Gwaine had patrol duties the next morning, but Percival made sure to feed Sunshine (what else were they supposed to call her?), walk her, and give her a raw, sturdy goat shank to gnaw on while they were gone.

When he and Gwaine returned during the late afternoon, they found Sunshine had pulled all Percival's blankets off his bed and onto the floor. She had not torn them up, but clearly, she had been napping on them.

Thrilled to see her favorite people, Sunshine greeted Gwaine and Percival with frantic tail wags and a dead rat in her mouth, which she dropped proudly at their feet.

Gwaine stared at the offering. "Well, we know Sunshine has one talent. She can catch vermin."

Grimacing, Percival collected the deceased rodent and tossed it out his window. He did not like the notion that he'd been sharing his space with a rat, and he appreciated the fact that Sunshine had been so diligent about dispatching the pest. He returned to Sunshine and scratched under her chin.

"Good girl."

She seemed to beam with pride.

"I suppose I'll take her now." Gwaine scooped her up and walked to the door as Percival wracked his brains to think of an excuse to keep Sunshine around.

"She needs a long walk after being inside all day," said Percival. "She's frisky, and you'll need help managing her."

"Fine," Gwaine drawled. "Let's take her for a walk. Then we'll all need supper."

They took her for a walk through the Lower Town, and it was almost comical how terrible she was on a rope leash. She dashed to and fro, strained at the end of her tether, and wanted to greet every person who came within twenty paces. But she was adorable and friendly, and everyone she encountered loved her.

On the way back to the castle, Percival said, "She's in dire need of training."

"You're good at that sort of thing." Gwaine struggled to keep his grip on the leash as she pulled.

"I know what you're doing, Gwaine."

"What am I doing? She needs basic training if I am to find her a proper home. I am agreeing with you."

"Fine. I will train her for a few weeks, then we'll find her a new home."

"Oh, it's 'we' now?"

Percival elbowed Gwaine in the ribs. "Do not push it."

XXXX

After a solid month of training, Sunshine's behavior improved in many ways. She did well on her leash until she saw people, and then it was a mad dash to greet them. She did wonderfully with _sit_ , _stay_ , _down_ , and _leave it_. _Drop it_ was something she needed to work on, though. Impressively, she'd not had a single accident in Percival's chamber.

Yes, somehow, she'd begun living in Percival's bedchamber and not Gwaine's. Gwaine helped with Sunshine's training nightly, and he and Percival played evening games of fetch with her. Sunshine loved playing fetch and could do so for hours. Once, she fetched the wrong stick, returning with a tree branch that was three times the length of her body, and Percival could not stop laughing. He had not been that happy in a long time.

Midsummer loomed, and Sunshine continued growing. She was as large as Luned had been, but more robust around the middle. People joked about how she could be fitted for a saddle if she grew larger, but she was still a puppy at heart, cheerful and playful. She adored everyone, and everyone loved her in return, from babies to the elderly. It had been the same with Luned. Percival wondered how he had been lucky enough to have two wonderful dogs in his life.

One evening, Percival worked on Sunshine's off-leash skills out on the training field. She was doing so well with returning when called, and Percival could not have been prouder of her. She did not even run up to Gwaine when he approached.

"I have excellent news," said Gwaine. "I found a family for Sunshine."

Percival's heart sank. They had not spoken of finding a new home for Sunshine in months, and, secretly, Percival hoped that Gwaine had forgotten all about it.

"Well, erm, I want to meet this family. See if they're a good fit for her," said Percival.

"And if they're adequate, this is all right with you? Giving her up?"

Percival's fingers twitched. Of course it was not all right, and he planned to find something wrong with this family. And any other family who might want to take her.

Gwaine rolled his eyes. "There's no other family, you buffoon. I wanted you to finally admit Sunshine is yours."

"You can be a manipulative arse."

"But I'm charming, so there's that." Gwaine leaned down and patted the dog's head. "Let's celebrate with sausage. That's your girl's favorite."

Feeling light as a feather and joy infusing him, Percival returned to the castle with his two best friends.

 _But I still love you, Luned_ , thought Percival. For the first time since her death, that notion did not hurt him. Luned would never want Percival to be lonely and sad.

XXXX

Camelot crawled with visitors around Midsummer, as the kingdom's week-long celebration of the season was something to behold. There were performances, feasts, dances, fortune tellers, and the market exploded to ten times its regular size. People from far and wide—commoners, nobles, and royals alike—wanted to experience the wonder of it all.

Yet this meant the knights worked twice as long and hard as usual to secure the kingdom. Random drunken brawls increased, which was irritating, but the larger issue was ensuring Queen Guinevere's safety. Years ago, after King Arthur had died at Camlann, Sir Leon suggested the Midsummer festivities cease.

Guinevere disagreed. "If we lie in our beds and cower, then what are we fighting for?"

She had a point, and the Midsummer celebrations continued without pause.

To open the festivities, at sunset on the first night, the queen welcomed all comers to a feast on the castle grounds, where she made a brief speech. Resplendent in a rich red gown and wearing a delicate head chain as opposed to her crown, she stood upon a small platform before the excited crowd. Her eyes held a hint of sadness, as they had every day since King Arthur died. Percival wondered if he was the only one who noticed.

"Welcome, one and all, to our Midsummer festival. We have enjoyed a wonderfully prosperous year here in Camelot, thanks to the hard work and devotion of all our people."

The crowd cheered.

Queen Guinevere went on to praise the citizens, calling out several by name for their contributions to Camelot, when Sunshine, who stood beside Percival, stared at the queen and growled. Percival had positioned himself at the side of the crowd to keep order, and he could not fathom why Sunshine would behave so poorly. He'd never heard her growl before, not even in play.

"Sunshine, quiet," he whispered, but she did not heed him. She ran into the crowd and tore off toward the queen, growling and snapping, fury in her brown eyes.

Horrified, Percival gave chase, commanding Sunshine to stop. Blasting through the sea of people, she paid him no mind. Dear gods, Sunshine would be slaughtered in an instant if she bit the queen. Percival had not raised his dog to behave like this, and pure panic coursed through him as he elbowed people out of the way to reach Sunshine and stop her.

However, when Percival glanced up, he noticed one of the guards behind the queen had slipped a dagger out from under his sleeve and approached the queen from the rear. His helmet came off as he made jerky movements forward, and Percival gasped. It was an impostor, an assassin masquerading as a knight of Camelot, there to kill the queen. Percival would not reach him in time. No one would.

The moment Sunshine broke through the crowd, she took a running leap toward the platform, and the queen screamed. Sunshine flew through the air, sailing by the queen, and landed on the assassin, knocking him over. He lost his grip on his dagger as Sunshine sank her teeth into his thigh and would not let go. That gave the knights who stood nearby enough time to subdue the man, but Percival still had to pull Sunshine off the intruder.

"Sunshine, release! Release!"

She finally let go when she was convinced the man no longer posed a threat. She sat, looking from the queen to Percival. "I did a good job?" she seemed to ask.

Queen Guinevere stepped out of the protective circle her ladies had formed around her. "Sunshine, you saved me. You're a heroine, girl, and you will receive a commendation."

Guinevere knelt and embraced the dog. Percival swore Sunshine grinned.

The following day, in a ceremony in the Great Hall, Queen Guinevere named Sunshine "The Heroine of Camelot," and the queen presented Percival with a medal on Sunshine's behalf. Sunshine received a large slab of beef, which she preferred to the medal.

Gwaine stood by like a proud uncle. "Sunshine will be remembered in the history books. Who would have thought?"


	3. Mithian

**Chapter Three: Mithian**

Sunshine and Percival became slightly famous after Sunshine saved the queen. Daily, people sent scores of gifts to the castle for the dog: dried meat, marrow bones, even a dog-sized knight's cape. Gwaine fastened the cape around her, and she pranced around the castle all day, wearing it proudly, a touch of haughtiness in her step.

By the end of the week, as the Midsummer celebrations came to a close, the fanfare died down a little, much to Percival's relief. The previous night, an elderly widow turned up at his chamber and offered herself to him "in thanks for his dog saving the queen." Percival's face on fire, he turned her down politely, then he double-barred his door. He'd not lain with a woman in a long time, but he was not about to go to bed with a woman old enough to be his grandmother.

Percival rose the next morning, his mood somewhat low. He would be thirty soon, considered almost ancient to be unmarried, but also, he had not tried very hard to find a wife ever since _the incident_ with that woman from the strolling players. A few fathers had approached him over the years regarding arranged marriages with their daughters, but the girls all looked terribly young and somewhat frightened, and that did not appeal to Percival. He would wait for love, though he wondered if love would ever arrive.

"I have you, right, Sunshine? And I had Luned. I am lucky."

She rolled onto her back, demanding a belly scratch, and Percival laughed. Life was not so bad.

After a long week of duties with few breaks, other than sleep, Percival looked forward to a leisurely day off with Sunshine. He figured they'd spend their morning in the castle gardens, luxuriating in the shade to escape the summer heat, playing with the new length of rope that had become Sunshine's favorite toy.

"Heel, Sunshine," said Percival after he washed and dressed. He grabbed her rope toy and her leash. She was doing exceedingly well with her off-leash commands, but he had learned the hard way to always have the tether available. If she grew over-excited and refused to listen, he could always slip it over her head and guide her away from whatever had captured her attention. Sometimes, she wanted to play with cows, and that was not safe.

With Sunshine at his heel, Percival exited the rear of the castle and wandered into the verdant beauty of the castle gardens. This had been Queen Guinevere's passion project since Arthur died, and the result was stunning. Located outside the rear of the castle, the gardens were massive, lined with tall trees of many varieties, offering shade, and a score of stone tables and benches stood along the cobblestone paths at even intervals.

The gardens had been separated into four quadrants. One section featured flowers and ornamental greens, the other held herbs, then there was the vegetable section, followed by the area containing unique plants and rock designs from all over the known lands. Percival enjoyed the unique parcel the most, shaded by several yew trees, and displaying wishing wells, fountains, and tiny potted trees that required a great deal of work to maintain. It was a peaceful place that soothed his soul.

For once, Sunshine seemed content to relax. While Percival stretched out in the grass beneath a yew, resting his hands behind his head as he gazed up at the bright blue sky, Sunshine lay down beside him and chewed contentedly on her rope toy. The peace of the day and the gentle perfume of moss and grass lulled Percival into hazy comfort, and he closed his eyes, just for a moment.

"Oh, goodness, aren't you a big beauty! Yes, you are. Yes, you are a beautiful girl..."

Damn it, Percival must have fallen asleep. He sat up like a shot, bleary-eyed and wiping the drool off his chin, forcing himself into a coherent state as he tried to figure out who spoke those words and where Sunshine had run off to. Leaping to his feet, his eyes surveyed his surroundings. A few dozen paces away, Princess Mithian crouched before Sunshine. The dog rolled on her back into a decidedly unladylike position, demanding belly rubs, as she was wont to do with, well, everyone.

Percival rushed over and bowed. "Forgive me, Your Highness. I must have fallen asleep. I hope Sunshine did not bother you too much."

"She's no bother, Sir Percival. Quite the opposite. She is wonderful and sweet."

Princess Mithian wore a light, white summer dress, one that skimmed her gentle curves, and her wavy hair hung loose. She looked like a gorgeous commoner, and Percival admired her appearance. Her casual garments and lack of adornments made her seem both accessible and alluring. Percival had always found her exquisite, but to ogle her would have been the height of impropriety. Though she had appeared in his fantasies. Frequently.

She was his age and a widow; Percival knew that. Her husband died almost two years ago, and since then, she had spent a good deal of time in Camelot with the queen, a fellow widow. Percival also knew that the princess's marriage had been arranged, and she had not been wed for all that long before her husband passed.

Mithian rubbed Sunshine's belly with both hands, and the dog shuddered with delight. "I miss my dogs," said Mithian. "I haven't had a dog in years because… well, why haven't I? I am a princess, after all, and if I want dogs, I should have them!"

Her refreshing honesty made Percival laugh, and he knelt to join the belly-rubbing session. "You're right. You should have dogs. They make the best companions."

"Don't they? They're loyal and never let you down. They're always happy to see you..." Her words rang with sadness. Someone, or many people, had let her down, he guessed. She shook off the glumness. "Do you mind if I sit here with you? I am not ready to go home yet."

"It would be an honor." Sitting in the garden with the stunning Princess Mithian? Percival could not fathom a more delightful way to spend a morning.

I was the finest morning, then day and night, he could recall in his entire life. Percival, Princess Mithian, and Sunshine formed an immediate and easy friendship. He and Mithian talked about anything and everything all day long, from their childhoods, to their friends, to their hopes and dreams. Mithian confessed that her brief arranged marriage had not been a happy one, but when her husband died, guilt and grief engulfed her.

"I should have tried harder," she said, as they lingered over a supper of roast chicken and fried spinach in a private dining chamber off the kitchens. "But there were other women, and that made me so furious. He said all men did it, and that I was expecting too much. Perhaps he was right."

Percival could not stop himself from reaching across the table and covering her hand with his. "He was wrong. A wife deserves to be the only woman in her husband's heart. I would never stray from my bride, no matter what."

"Perhaps you are a rare man, Percival." She glanced up, and her eyes shimmered with tears.

"I don't think so. I value honesty and loyalty is all. If a man is lucky enough to marry, he should treasure and adore his wife above all others. That's what I would do."

"Your wife will be a lucky woman, indeed."

Sunshine, who had been lying at Mithian's feet, popped up and rested her head in the princess's lap in a comforting gesture.

"Oh, sweetheart." Mithian stroked Sunshine's ears. "You and your father may just be the kindest living beings I know."

Sunshine let out a long bray that sounded like: "Yeeessss..."

Percival and Mithian laughed until their sides hurt. Mithian was even more beautiful when she laughed with true delight.

"Modesty is not for you, is it?" Mithian said to Sunshine, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes.

Once she and Percival were able to comport themselves, Mithian's gaze grew somber. "I don't want to go home tomorrow,"

"Then don't." Percival hoped he did not sound too desperate. "You should stay for another week."

Mithian sat back and smiled. "Done. It didn't take much to convince me. I love it here."

"Your kingdom of Nemeth is nice, but Camelot has everything you could want."

Quirking a brow, she leaned forward. "Such as?"

"We have mountains. And our lake."

"Nemeth has mountains and lakes."

Percival forgot Camelot and Nemeth shared a border, as well as the White Mountains. "Well, we have the finest market in the known lands. That cannot be disputed."

"I suppose the market is rather impressive."

She did not sound impressed, and Percival worried that he was losing Mithian. "We have Sunshine, the Queen's Savior and World's Finest Dog."

 _You have me, and I am besotted with you,_ he wanted to say, but he held back. Percival wanted to close the space between them and kiss Mithian, but what was he thinking? Trying to kiss a princess without her explicit approval would earn him a week in the dungeons, at least.

He glanced down. Had his hand been on Mithian's this whole time? He drew back. Percival had gone to bed with that woman from the strolling players, and there had been that brief dalliance with the baker's daughter before she moved away. He had little experience flirting, and none courting. If only he'd asked Gwaine for advice, but this had all come about so suddenly.

"Princess, if I tried to kiss you—"

She pushed away from the table and was on her feet. "I wish you would."

Percival pulled her close. Like all women, she was much shorter than he, and while Mithian had a delicate build, she possessed firm curves and beautiful, bow-shaped lips. She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck as he leaned down and kissed her. Nothing in the world could have prepared him for the explosive sensations that accompanied the meeting of their lips. It was as if the time stopped and nothing existed but the exquisite, tempting softness of Mithian's mouth. Dear gods, if he died on the spot, he'd die a happy man.

He kept his hands fixed on Mithian's hips as their tongues tasted and explored, but she trailed her fingers up and down the back of his tunic, sending shivers of delight through him. His passion deepened, and he struggled for control. Percival broke the kiss and took a slight step back.

"That was..." He was at a loss for words.

Mithian shifted her hand to her heart. "You felt it, too? The connection?"

Relief flooded him. It had not been a simple kiss for her, either. "Yes."

She gathered the front of his tunic in her fist and pulled him toward her. "Kiss me again."

Gods, he wanted nothing more, and he did as she asked.

XXXX

How quickly seven days passed, and Percival dreaded Mithian's leaving the following morning. It had been the most wonderful week of Percival's life. He had never experienced such a deep bond with another person, and how they had laughed together! He could not fathom spending a single day without her, let alone months on end in between times where he would be able to visit her kingdom.

They had shared so much, detailing their deepest hopes and darkest fears. But the one topic they danced around was marriage. Fearing she would draw back and consider him too forward, Percival dared not ask how she felt about marrying again. If she said she never wanted to wed again, that rejection would cut deeply, and Percival could not bear that, so he avoided the subject.

That afternoon, Percival sat on his bed, scowling, with Sunshine resting at his side, gazing up at him with worry.

Gwaine, reclining in the bedside chair, rolled his eyes. "You and Mithian are in love, and if you let her leave without asking her to marry you, you are an idiot."

"What?" sputtered Percival. "I can't ask a princess to marry me just like that. That's madness!" Percival stood and began to pace with Sunshine at his heel, following his every step. "I doubt she could live here, and I don't know if she wants to. Then I'd have to move to Nemeth, and ask her father if—"

"So?" Gwaine interrupted. "Then go."

Go? Just like that? Percival supposed he could. Why not? But getting ahead of himself served no purpose. He did not know if Mithian wanted to wed again, or if her father would even agree to it.

"Mithian is third in line to the throne," said Gwaine. "She doesn't have to stay in Nemeth. I am sure her father would approve of a marriage to a knight of Camelot. And if he doesn't, marry anyway, and the queen will let you both live here."

Percival was rendered speechless. Ask Mithian to give up her royal title for him if her father did not approve? Percival would never ask that of her. No, this was all too fraught with uncertainty. They would correspond for a time, then he would ask to court her. If she was open to it. Yes, slow and cautious was the way. That was less likely to end in heartbreaking rejection.

"Gwaine, it's not that simple."

"Don't be a bloody coward, Percival. If you throw away a chance at true love, you are the greatest fool I have ever known."

Percival stormed up to Gwaine. "What do you know about love?"

"Personally? Nothing. But if I am lucky enough to find it, I won't be an utter arse and let it slip through my fingers."

"I'll handle things in my own way, thank you."

With tension filling the room, Percival stared down Gwaine as Sunshine whined in the corner.

* * *

 **A/N — Thank you so much for leaving lovely comments. I truly appreciate your gracious support.**

 **There are two more chapters to go, and I thank you for reading.**


	4. Promises

**Chapter Four: Promises**

 ** _A/N_** — **_This chapter contains a scene with sexual intimacy. The scene begins around paragraph 20 and continues until the last few paragraphs. I mentioned in my author's note in chapter one that I did not feel this story merits an "M" rating, but due to this scene, the story is probably more of a "T+". As such, if sexual intimacy is something you are not comfortable reading, you might want to skip this chapter after paragraph 20._**

* * *

It was Percival and Mithian's last night together before she returned home to Nemeth, and Percival's heart ached. Sunshine—who had been present during every moment Percival spent with Mithian—grew sulky. Percival had never seen his dog like this, head hung and her tail tucked. Sunshine must have known Mithian was on the eve of departing.

Percival and Mithian shared a lovely supper on a blanket in the gardens, right in the spot where they met a little over a week ago. They took a twilight stroll through the forest, holding hands, then they returned to the castle and sipped mead in the small private dining room that they had claimed all week. It was warm, so Percival propped open the doors to the outside, and he and Mithian sat next to one another by the light of a single candle, gazing up at the reddish-orange moon.

"Percival?" She threaded her fingers through his. "Promise you'll visit."

"I promise. And I'll write every day." He did not love writing, but for Mithian, he would do it.

She sniffed. "I shall miss you so much."

"And I shall miss you."

No one spoke, and Percival caressed the back of Mithian's hand with his thumb. He had so many questions for Mithian about the possibility of a shared future, yet not enough courage to ask any of them. Perhaps Gwaine was right. Maybe Percival was a coward.

Mithian shifted in her seat to face Percival. "If I asked you for something, would you give it to me, no questions asked?"

"Anything."

Her gazed locked with his. "Would you come to my chamber tonight?"

He sucked in a breath. Mithian would not ask for this if she did not want it, and oh, how he wanted it. Every time he looked at her, thought about her, his desire reached almost unbearable levels. In his dreams, he had taken her to bed, and to have her offer herself, openly and willingly, was not something he could turn down. He was only so strong.

 _Best not to overthink. Just go._

With a nod, he led her out of the dining room, and they crept up the narrow, little-used passage to Mithian's spacious guest quarters on the fifth floor of the castle, with Sunshine following. When they reached her door, Mithian's guard stood at attention, and Percival bit back a groan. How would they make this work?

"Sir Jon, you may leave us," said Mithian. "Take time off until sunrise."

She sounded so authoritative, while Percival perspired with nervousness.

"Um, leave?" He cocked his head to the side. "Oh, I cannot do that, my lady."

"Yes, you can, and you shall. It is my direct order. I have Sir Percival here with me, a knight of Camelot, and he will see to my protection for the rest of the evening. Goodbye, Sir Jon."

Jon winced. "If that's an order, my lady, I will heed it, but I shall check on you each hour."

He shot Percival a stern look, then marched down the corridor.

Giggling, Mithian pulled Percival inside, and Sunshine trotted in, too. Mithian wasted no time, discarding her cloak on the floor, then untying the top of Percival's tunic. They kissed frantically, hands roaming, and their bodies pressed together, until Sunshine squeezed her way in between them. She let out a yip, as if to say: "I like this game! I want to play!"

What if Sunshine leapt onto the bed while Percival and Mithian were indisposed? That would not do.

Percival's mouth curved into a slight frown. "Let me bring her to Gwaine," he said. "I will be right back."

Mithian laughed. "All right. I will wait."

Percival coaxed Sunshine out of the chamber and all but ran across the parapet walkway with her to Gwaine's room. There was no guarantee Gwaine would take Sunshine after they row Percival had with him, and he might not even be there.

Percival knocked once, and Gwaine answered the door. He looked Percival up and down. "You look unkempt."

"I am, and it's a long story, but I wondered if you might mind Sunshine for the night."

Sunshine, clearly thrilled to see Uncle Gwaine, dashed into the room and hopped onto the bed, stretching out and making use of his pillows.

"I'll only do it if you promise me you're fornicating with the princess."

Percival wanted to be cross, but he could not stop himself from laughing. "Yes, I will be fornicating with the princess, but you must not tell anyone."

Gwaine pretended to button his lips. "I will not say a word, you lucky man. I haven't seen action in a while."

"You were entertaining two women here last week. At the same time."

"Like I said, it's been a while." He gave Percival a gentle shove. "Don't keep the lady waiting!"

Percival turned on his heel and flew back to Mithian's chamber. He paused in front of the door, patting down his short locks, and he sniffed his armpit. No unacceptable odor. He took a deep breath, then eased his way inside. Mithian stood with her back to him, gazing out her window, her hair spilling down her back in full waves. She had removed her braids and had wrapped a thick blanket around herself. He wondered if she was chilled.

"Sorry that took so long. As usual, Gwaine had plenty to say..."

His words trailed off when Mithian turned and shed her blanket. The fabric fell to the floor in a puddle around her feet, and she stood before him, naked and magnificent. He appreciated the female form, but this woman, the one he loved, with her pale, unblemished skin, and small, but beautifully rounded breasts, made his heart hammer and his loins tighten with lust. Those warm brown eyes, in which the candlelight danced, and the faint blush on her cheeks lured him closer as he tried, and failed, to divest himself of his clothes. His hands shook too much with nervousness and excitement.

Mithian beckoned him with a crook of her finger. "Come here. Let me help you."

Her fingers trembled slightly as she yanked off Percival's tunic and then fumbled with the ties on his trousers. At least he was not the only nervous one.

When his drawers fell and he tried to kick them away, he almost tripped, but Mithian steadied him with a hand to the chest. They both chuckled.

"We need to relax," she said with a smile.

He took a deep breath and let it out as he studied her. "I am relaxed now. But you are everything I have ever dreamed of. You are so very beautiful, Mithian." He traced the curve of her breast with his fingers, and she shuddered.

"You are far _more_ than I ever expected" — her gaze dipped to his hardness — "and not just in that way."

He lifted Mithian, carried her the few steps to the bed, then deposited her onto the soft blankets. Percival came down on top of her, and they kissed, gentle pecks at first, then the kissing grew more desperate, as their hands explored the most private parts of one another's bodies. He wanted to touch every part of her, to feel and taste it all, and the ravenous need to have her grew. Exploration could come later. Now, he had to be inside her.

He urged her thighs open with his knees and settled in between her legs, his hardness straining as it brushed against her slick warmth.

"Tell me when you're ready," he breathed.

Biting her lower lip, she guided him inside her, and Percival let out a deep, rumbling groan that he could not control. As he slid in further, he thought, _This is perfect. Like coming home._

He held her as they made love, relishing her every moan and sigh. Her hips rose and fell to meet his, and after a few strokes, her body trembled with release as she cried out. Percival slowed his pace and opened his eyes. He did not want to miss a thing.

"I love you," came out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Mithian framed his face with her hands. "I love you, too."

Percival had enjoyed sex with those two other women in his life, very much, but it had not been like this, not even close. This was a connection of mind, body, and spirit, something so profound and wonderful that Percival did not have the words to describe it.

He could hold back no longer, and his release struck hard and fast as he dug his fingers into the pillow. Boneless and sated, he struggled to prop himself off Mithian after their intense joining, so rather than crush her, he fell onto his side next to her and twirled a lock of her hair around his finger.

"That went well," she said, and they both burst into laughter.

This was what Percival would miss, the laughter and easy banter with Mithian. All right, he'd damn well miss the lovemaking, too.

But they did not speak of the future. They spend the whole night tangled up in one another, exploring each other's bodies, whispering secrets, and experiencing joy like they had never known.

They slept for a little while, but Percival rose and dressed right before sunrise. The castle would come alive soon, and he did not want rumors to spread when half of court saw him emerge from Mithian's bedchamber early in the morning. They were already taking a risk by trusting that her guard would remain silent.

After lacing his boots, Percival leaned down over the bed and kissed Mithian's brow. "I shall see you off soon."

He did not know what else to say. She was due to leave mid-morning, and it was not as if it would be a private send-off. The queen, knights, and courtiers would all bid Princess Mithian farewell in the courtyard, as was custom.

Mithian's eyes filled with tears that spilled, but she batted them away. "Don't forget your promises to write and visit."

"I won't. I love you." Why couldn't he bring himself to ask about their future, or to toss aside all caution and beg her to marry him? Why?

"Love you," she whispered into his ear, then kissed his cheek.

He left as unshed tears stung his eyes.

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 _ **A/N — Thank you very much for reading so far. The next chapter will be the last.**_


	5. Wisdom

**Chapter Five: Wisdom**

Not a single cloud dotted the azure-blue sky that summer morning as hundreds lined the courtyard to bid Princess Mithian farewell. She was a beloved visitor, charming and engaging, with friends in Camelot from every social stratum, from scullery maids to Queen Guinevere.

Dressed in his knight's garb, Percival and Gwaine stood a dozen paces away from Queen Guinevere at the top of the castle steps leading down to the courtyard. Any moment, Mithian would emerge from the castle. Sunshine sat at Percival's feet, still sulky and not her usual cheerful self. It was as if she knew Mithian was leaving and blamed Percival for it.

A moment later, Mithian stepped outside, and the crowd cheered.

"Thank you for another lovely visit," she called, waving. "Your hospitality here in Camelot is unmatched. I had a wonderful time, and I hope to see you all again very soon."

She and Queen Guinevere shared a long embrace. When Mithian pulled back, Guinevere wiped away Mithian's tears and whispered what he imagined were soothing words, though Percival could not hear the details. Mithian then glanced at Percival and gave him a small nod and a smile. Sir Leon offered her his arm, escorting Mithian down the steps and bringing her to her waiting white mare.

People tossed flower petals at Mithian, wishing her safe travels. They all loved her. Who wouldn't?

Sunshine let out a mournful howl and shifted closer to Gwaine, making her disdain for Percival obvious. She certainly blamed him for the princess's departure.

"Gods, this is the most imbecilic thing I have ever seen," muttered Gwaine. "You are actually letting her go."

Sir Leon helped Mithian mount her horse, and she looked in Percival's direction one more time. "Goodbye, Sunshine!"

Sunshine's doleful howl rang out once again, making the short hairs on Percival's neck stand up. Before he knew it, he found himself charging down the stone steps with Sunshine right alongside.

"Mithian, wait!"

Percival heard mumbling about his poor manners and how one did not address a princess with such familiarity, but he ignored them. Gwaine was right. If Percival did not ask Mithian to marry him, he would be the most idiotic man who ever lived. It was a risk, proposing marriage, but who cared? Living with regret would be far worse.

He arrived at Mithian's horse, reached up, and took Mithian's hand. Sunshine sat on his foot.

"Mithian, I love you more than anything. Please marry me."

That was all he could think of. The crowd stood by in stunned silence. One could hear the wind whispering through the trees.

Mithian jumped down into Percival's arms. "Of course, I will marry you. I love you."

A deafening roar of approval rose from the crowd as Sunshine took victory laps around the courtyard. Percival kissed Mithian soundly, then rested his forehead against hers.

"I don't even have a betrothal gift for you. Sorry about that." His face heated.

"If I have you, I have everything I need."

They kissed again, until Sunshine all but crawled up Percival's side, demanding to be held. With great effort, Percival lifted Sunshine into his arms and held her like she was a (vastly) oversized baby, and Mithian kissed Sunshine's nose.

Percival imagined his parents and Luned smiling down on all of them.

XXXX

Three days later, Percival arrived at the royal castle in Nemeth, where Mithian and her elderly father, King Rodor, lived. At her insistence, Mithian had ridden ahead with her entourage, explaining to Percival that she wanted to prepare her father for Percival's arrival.

"Should I be worried?" asked Percival in a teasing tone, though it did not matter how much King Rodor interrogated him. Percival would face an army of a thousand to win Mithian's hand, if that was what it required.

Percival rode up to the gatehouse with Sunshine trotting alongside his horse and Gwaine riding behind. Queen Guinevere had been bursting with joy over Percival and Mithian's (potential) betrothal and was happy to give him a fortnight off, insisting he had to bring along Gwaine for support and protection, protection from King Rodor, Percival supposed.

Percival introduced himself, Gwaine, and Sunshine to the gatekeeper. The man cranked the gates open, and Percival was greeted by a score of Nemeth's knights, all of whom seemed wary, but they relaxed when they saw Sunshine was friendly. Her ebullient disposition won over even the most cantankerous of men.

Percival was dying to see Mithian, but the knights whisked him off to the Throne Room to meet King Rodor immediately, while Gwaine was seen to his guest chamber with Sunshine. Percival was not offered a drink, nor the chance to wash, which he would have appreciated before meeting with the king, but he supposed the purpose of this treatment was so King Rodor had the chance to size up Percival in his current state, travel-weary and less-than-clean.

Mustering confidence, Percival strode into the deep, sunlit throne room. King Rodor sat at the far end upon his throne, his thin body swallowed by dark robes, and his skin pale. Rodor was ten years older than the last time Percival had seen the king, when they had fought side-by-side against King Odin's men, and while Rodor sat slightly hunched and his skin wrinkled, his eyes gleamed with strength. King Rodor might have been frail in body, but not in spirit.

Scowling as he adjusted the crown resting on his bone-white hair, Rodor eyed Percival up and down. "I remember you, vaguely," he boomed, his strong, deep voice belying his age. "We faced Odin together."

Percival bowed. "That is right, Your Highness, and might I say that it is a pleasure—"

"Boy, I do not need you to tell me what is right. I have not gone soft in the head yet."

"I apologize, sire. I did not mean to insult." This was not going well.

"Let us cut to the quick. Why are you here, Percival?"

"I am in love with your daughter, Your Highness, and I would very much like to marry her, with your permission and blessing. I swear to cherish and care for her, always."

Rodor shot out of his seat like a man half his age and stormed around the chamber. "I fell for that horse shite with the last man! My daughter's husband stood before me, just as you do, telling me how he'd care for her and protect her, how their union would solidify Nemeth's alliance with the kingdom of Dyfed. He was cultured, well spoken, and I fell for it."

Percival did not dare interrupt the king during a tirade.

King Rodor came to a halt before Percival and glared at him, his eyes on fire. "That stinking son of a hog turned out to be a disaster, a drunkard whose first love was wenching. He promised me he would love my daughter, but he lied! Broke her heart! If he'd not died in a riding accident, I would have snapped his neck myself. He probably fell off the saddle because he was drunk.." Rodor jabbed a finger into Percival's chest. "Are you a drunkard?"

"No, sir, definitely not."

"Are you a cad who beds every woman he wants?"

"Not at all, sire."

Rodor circled Percival. "You're a bit old to be marrying for the first time. Have you left a trail of broken hearts behind you?"

"Your Highness, I have not. I was not lucky when it came to love, until I met your daughter."

"Why, precisely, do you love her?"

"Mithian, excuse me, Princess Mithian has the purest heart I have ever known. Despite having been hurt, she loves deeply, is kind, honest, and funny. I have never laughed so hard, nor known such happiness, and I will make it my life's mission to see she is happy, too."

"You said nothing about her beauty."

"No one would deny your daughter's beauty, my lord, but there is so much more to her."

"Lovely words." King Rodor waved his hand in the air vaguely. "Now get out."

"What do you mean, 'get out,' sire?"

"I mean precisely what I said. Are you deaf? I am done with you. Go back to Camelot."

Percival swallowed his disappointment and stood firm. "If you insist, Your Highness, but I will bring Mithian with me, and we will wed. I was hoping to do so with your permission and blessing."

Rodor turned a frightening shade of purple and bellowed, "I challenge you to a duel!"

A duel with a man more than twice Percival's age? That was absurd. "King Rodor, I will not fight you."

"You will have to win my daughter's hand! It is the only way. Follow me to the training circle on the west side of the castle. My men will armor you there."

Bewildered, Percival followed. Courtiers lined the corridors, glaring at him. Percival would stand out on this field before all and defend himself, but he would not strike this king with his sword.

People cheered the king and booed Percival as the men took the field. One of Rodor's sons, scowling, dragged heavy chainmail over Percival's head. Percival glanced around, wondering where Mithian was.

Gwaine, under the watchful eye of a guard, came up to Percival with Sunshine. "These people are mad," muttered Gwaine.

"You're telling me."

Percival had barely stepped into the ring when Rodor, clad in mail, charged forward, swinging his sword, moving far faster than Percival thought possible. Percival deflected the first blow with ease. Then the next, and the next. Rodor grew winded, and he stooped.

"Fight back!" insisted the king.

Percival shook his head blocked and several more sword strikes. Rodor started wheezing, and he fell to his knees. Flinging aside his weapon, Percival rushed forward to help, grasping Rodor's shoulders to keep him upright. "Water!" Percival demanded. "He needs water!"

Gwaine tossed over a waterskin, and Percival placed the vessel to the king's lips and tipped it. Rodor took several grateful sips, and his breathing slowed.

"Call for the physician," Percival insisted, but Rodor shook his head.

"I am all right. That was invigorating! Anyway, you passed the test."

"What test, sire?"

"You could have fought full-force against me. Shamed me in front of all after I told you to leave. Or, you could have decided it was too stressful to face an old man in the ring and left, but you stayed. That says much about your character, a willingness to face such a challenge. I wanted to see how you handled the situation."

On shaky legs, King Rodor stood, and Sunshine loped over, staring up at him. She gave him a sniff, licked his hand, then rubbed her big head against his leg. Rodor laughed. "And this is your other beloved?"

"Yes," said Percival, still stunned by all that had gone on. "This is Sunshine, sire, my dog."

Sunshine hopped onto her hind legs, placed her paws on Percival's shoulders, and licked his face as her tail wagged.

Rodor laughed with approval. "Dogs are excellent judges of character."

Right then, with her hair windblown and her eyes narrowed in anger, Mithian stormed into the ring. "Father! What is the meaning of this? My ladies took me riding, presumably at your command to keep me away from you and Percival. What are you doing?"

"I-I had to test him, my dear, to make sure he is the man for you." His eyes softening with care and concern, Rodor took his daughter's hands. "It was my fault, the misery of your first marriage. I trusted that man, and he hurt you. I never want that to happen again."

"Father you could have asked how I felt about Percival and what I wanted. There was no need for so much drama."

Percival placed a gentle hand on Mithian's back. "Sometimes a father must do what a father must do. I respect that your father loves you enough to question my motives and character."

"You, Sir Gwaine." Rodor motioned for him to approach. "What do you think of Sir Percival marrying my daughter?"

Gwaine sauntered over. "Well, Your Highness, I think Percival is rather ugly"—the bystanders all laughed— "but he is the finest friend in the realm and is completely in love with your daughter. He and Princess Mithian make a wonderful couple."

"If you had a daughter, Sir Gwaine, would you allow her to marry Percival?"

"Without hesitation."

King Rodor turned back to his daughter. "You and Percival will stay in Nemeth, won't you?"

"Unless you command it, no, Father. My heart lies in Camelot, and it has for some time."

Mithian's statement surprised Percival. He wondered what or who kept her tied to Camelot. Her friendship with Queen Guinevere? Had she fancied another man?

Mithian took Percival's hand and squeezed it. "My heart lies in Camelot because of you. Long before my wedding day, I noticed you, and I always hoped you would notice me, but it did not happen until now."

Percival tried to keep his jaw from dropping. "Not notice you? I admired you from the first time you set foot in Camelot to meet King Arthur, but I assumed you and I could never be. I thought of you plenty over the years, more than I should have."

Mithian wrapped her arms around Percival and rested her head against his mail-covered chest. "That's all in the past now. We have a wedding to plan, if Father approves."

"I approve." Rodor smiled. "I assume I should prepare for a wedding in Camelot?"

"If you wouldn't mind," said Mithian.

"Daughter, it is my deepest wish to see you happy, and if that means a wedding in Camelot, then you shall have it."

The bystanders cheered, and it perplexed Percival how they'd gone from hostile to jubilant in no time, but none of that mattered at the moment. The woman of Percival's dreams, the love of his life, stood in his embrace. Life could not have been better.

XXXX

The following spring, on a warm morning, Percival and Mithian sat on a blanket in Camelot's castle gardens, their favorite place, and he rubbed her feet.

"Oh, my ankles are so swollen, Percival. And I am fat. Huge, really."

Her ankles had swollen, and her midsection, but what was because she was seven months pregnant. It had been a difficult pregnancy for Mithian, replete with nausea, fatigue, headaches, and swelling. Percival appreciated how much she endured to carry his baby, and he treated her like the princess she was.

"Love, you are not fat," he insisted. "You're with child is all, and you have never looked more beautiful."

She sighed. "If you say so."

Sunshine, who has been resting her head in Mithian's lap, shot to her feet. She spotted a hare in the distance and bolted out of the gardens.

"Silly dog," said Percival.

Normally, Sunshine returned within moments when she realized no hare in the realm wanted to play with her, but this time, Sunshine flew into the woods. He and Mithian waited and waited, but Sunshine did not return.

Mithian struggled to her feet as tears filled her eyes. "We must find her!"

Mithian was in no condition to trudge through the woods. "I'll summon a search party. You wait in the castle. Please. I don't mean to be rude, but you would slow us down."

She acquiesced, and Percival called on his friends to help. A group of twenty, including Gwaine and Leon, joined the search. Around midday, they found Sunshine, shaken and her tail tucked, but unhurt. Mithian sobbed when she saw Sunshine, and the princess pulled Sunshine's custom-made dog bed right up against Percival and Mithian's bed for the night. Percival did not complain. He knew that stress was bad for the baby, and he wanted to ensure Mithian and the child she carried were as healthy as possible.

Within a few days, it seemed as if Sunshine had recovered from her ordeal. Though after a little more than a fortnight had passed, she slept more than usual, and her appetite was insatiable.

Percival eyed Sunshine. "She's growing a bit thick around the middle, don't you think?"

Mithian bent down and gently kneaded Sunshine's sides. "She's not thick. She's carrying puppies!"

Percival tried not to swoon. Puppies and a baby on the way? That sounded daunting.

Weeks before Mithian was due to give birth, Sunshine delivered two healthy puppies, all black and adorable. Mithian subsequently gave birth to a strapping son. Percival, his wife, son, and dogs remained wrapped in a cocoon of total bliss with their little family, but he hoped it was not too demanding for Mithian, dealing with an infant and three dogs in the chamber. She seemed pleased, though tired, and he did not like the thought of creating more work for her with the puppies.

"Mithian," he said when the puppies turned eight weeks old, "shall I find homes for the puppies?"

Mithian burst into tears, as did baby Percival. "No," she said, her voice shaking. "Please don't take them away."

"I won't, I swear." He pulled her and the baby close. "I want to make sure you are not overwhelmed and are happy is all."

"I have never been happier."

"Nor have I."

The years went by. Sir Percival served Camelot with honor, and Mithian became Queen Guinevere's closest advisor.

Percival and Mithian had three children who were, of course, raised with dogs. Percival could not imagine it any other way.

In a surprising turn of events, Gwaine and Queen Guinevere wed, having bonded over nursing an abandoned puppy back to health. Funny how that happened.

While holding Mithian's hand at Gwaine and Guinevere's royal wedding, Percival reflected on the past. His journey toward opening his heart had started with his first dog, Luned. He thought of her often, and the memories rarely pained him now. Her unconditional love and loyalty, as well as Sunshine's, set him on his current path, one filled with joy and family. His dogs had taught him that taking risks in the name of love was worth it. Luned and Sunshine were wise and wonderful creatures, indeed.

Life was simply better with dogs.

 **THE END**

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 _ **A/N**_ — _ **Thank you for taking the time to read my story. I am a bit shy about sharing my writing, and for those who left reviews, I appreciated your gentle encouragement. It meant a great deal to me.**_


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